The first encounter occurred when I was around six or seven years old. I grew up in a historic town in Connecticut with cemeteries dating back to the first settlers to came over on the Mayflower. A handful of the homes have plaques naming them historical landmarks and many of the residents are direct ancestors of the Mayflower settlers. My neighbor, Wendy, was one of those decedents and her home was on the verge of being named historic, sadly she let it fall into horrible disrepair. Everyone has that house growing up that the kids dub the "witch's house". That was Wendy's house. I grew up going over to her house to drop things off for my mom and to climb through the window when poor old Wendy locked herself out, so in my eyes it was just an old house.
One night I was in my bathroom brushing my teeth when I got this odd feeling, like someone was watching me from Wendy's house, so I pulled the blinds up and looked out. Across the way in Wendy's bedroom window was a man in a black suit, staring back at me. His stare was cold, almost a glare but not quite, just very intense. I ran and got my mom but by the time she got to the window he was gone. She told me I was just tired and whisked me off to bed. In the morning she called Wendy who told her at that time both her and her husband were watching TV in the Living Room. I was spooked, but it was dismissed.
About a month later Wendy and her husband went on vacation for a week and I was asked to water the plants and feed her cat, Shasta. I had done this many times before with my sister and it was a big deal for me to be asked to do it alone, so of course I jumped at the opportunity. Wendy left me detailed directions, explaining that to save on heat costs all the doors were to remain shut and telling me not to feel bad if Shasta ignored me, she didn't like strangers. Seemed easy enough. The first two days went great, by the third day Shasta had even warmed up to me and let me pet her. On the fourth day I sat in Wendy's big comfy chair and Shasta jumped up and curled up in my lap. I was calm and thrilled to have to "evil" cat like me. I even let my guard down, forgetting about the scary man from the window. Big mistake. As I cuddled with Shasta I suddenly heard a creak on the floorboards above us and a door slam shut. Strange, I thought all the doors were already closed. The door slam was followed by more creaking, in the master bedroom. I gulped, Shasta jumped off my lap and ran upstairs. I slowly followed her upstairs calling out "hello" as I went. Shasta was pawing at the master bedroom door trying to get in. I kept yelling things like, "my daddy is big and he'll fight you" but got no answer. I opened the door and no one was there. Shasta stayed by my side as we went downstairs together, content that it was an old house and must have been in our heads. That's when I heard more creaking and what sounded like someone running across the room. I freaked. I ran home and got my Mom. She assured me there was nothing to be afraid of, that old houses creaked, that was normal. She made me go back upstairs with her. I was shaking the entire time. When she opened the bedroom door the window was open and glass of cold orange juice sat on the windowsill. I know for a hundred percent fact the window was tightly closed and there was no glass there earlier. She chuckled and told me Wendy must have left the door open and the wind must have slammed it shut. The glass was still cold from the cold air outside. I was terrified. I knew the room was not as I had left it earlier. My mom closed the window and brought the cup down the kitchen explaining that she didn't want Wendy to come home to ants. We then went back to my house.
When we got to my front door, it was locked. Neither of us remembered locking it in our rush; luckily we had a key hidden under the mat. As my mom put the key in the lock and began to turn it, the key broke clean in half in the lock. As we knocked on the front door and waited for my dad to come open the door, I looked up at Wendy's bedroom window. I swear a man was looking down at us. I told my mom to look, but all she saw was a curtain moving ever so slightly.
I refused to return to the house the remaining three days to water the plants, so my parents took turns doing it for me. Neither had a ghostly encounter. When Wendy returned from her vacation she thanked me for watering the plants and feeding Shasta, but told my mom, rather annoyed, that she thought she had made herself clear about staying out of her bedroom. When they returned home they found a glass of orange juice on the windowsill and the window was wide open.
